


Kinktober 1: Bodyswap

by Unicorn (Jensee)



Series: Kinktober 2019 [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bodyswap, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Kinktober 2019, Light Bondage, M/M, Marcus is Horny but in this instance not so tiny, Overstimulation, aka Doug Eiffel discovers he's a sub to no one's surprise, slight body horror, that quickly transforms into body appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jensee/pseuds/Unicorn
Summary: Cutter is in need of refreshing his body once again. Doug is a convenient solution to this problem, but his usefulness might extend to other matters as well...





	Kinktober 1: Bodyswap

**Author's Note:**

> Be the change you want to see in the world, they said, so I wrote a very long pornographic one shot
> 
> Thanks to Tyr for being patient with me bombarbing him with my porn literally all the time. Tyr you rock and I love you.
> 
> Oh, and also, please don't expect any good writing this october, it's just gonna be filth most likely and I don't want to let anyone down

Doug wakes up to a soft breeze and a shiver running up his spine. He's cold, but when he tries to curl up into himself to find some warmth, he realizes this is the least of his problems. 

He's strapped down to a bed.

He immediately opens his eyes and tries to trash free of the bounds around his wrist. His body feels sluggish and strange, his senses muted. The room spins when he finally admits defeat.

"Hello? Someone here?" his voice sounds weird, creaky and unused, nasal and higher than his usual tone.

A door that Eiffel hadn't noticed, right down past his legs and on the other side of the room, opens.

"Ah, Doug! I see you're awake!" 

Doug blinks dumbly at the perfect replica of the person he sees everyday in the mirror. 

"What?" is his eloquent answer. 

"I suppose you're a bit confused right now, as it were, but I assure you everything is _fine_."

His doppelganger doesn't sound as much like him as Doug would have excepted him to. Doug can recognize his own voice from the numerous radio tests he did, and the recording he keeps in his car of himself talking about whatever to whoever when he gets bored on the highway. This... creature has the same vocal cords, obviously, but it doesn't speak the same way Doug does. There is a certain lilt, teasing and high, to its voice that Doug isn't used to hearing in his own voice. And even for a communication officer who has experimented with his own vocal range more than the average blood-reded American boy, the cognitive dissonance of hearing his own voice in such a distorted manner is enough to make him dizzy all over again.

The fact that the creature - once again - _looks like him_, does _not_ help.

"Do you like it? I have to say I am myself quite satisfied with the results of our little experiment." the replica of Doug is looking at his own hand - or is it Doug's hand? - as it talks, "although I except you might not feel the same way since you got - and I assure you the pun is not intended - the short end of the stick in this whole affair." 

"The short end-? What the fuck you psycho- let me go!"

Doug tries to trash against his bounds again but it amounts to no more result than earlier. Panic starts to settled deep inside of him and the slightly wrong feeling that has been spreading over his body just keeps on steadily.  
Something is very wrong here.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Doug. See, there has been some changes that would be rather hard to explain, were you to come back to your old life." 

The doppelganger is pointedly staring down at Doug's body and he follows the path of that stare, only to find a sight he's never seen. Which, when looking down at yourself, is a rather disturbing realization to have.

This isn't his body.

"What did you do to me?" Doug's voice is deceptively flat as he waves a hand, much too delicate and much too clear to be his.

"Like what you see? Miranda did a pretty good job! I wasnt sure you'd come out in one piece, but you seem perfectly sane."

The man takes a mirror behind him to present to Eiffel and he stares dumbly at it for a moment before he realizes the reflection in the glass is, in fact, him.

Sort of, anyway. 

"Wait a minute... I recognize that face! You're the slimy guy that wanted a comms officer! Checker or something!" 

The creature's face stretches in a cold, hard smile. It doesn't look friendly on Doug's face. To be fair, it probably would look just as horrifying on anyone's face. Doug feels a shiver of fear, like a drop of cold sweat running down his spine.

"Marcus Cutter."

"Yeah, yeah, cutting, cutlery, whatever--_What_ did you _do_ to _me_?"

Doug tries for intimidating, but he's never been much of an imposing guy, and he's probably even less of one with the diminutive farm he finds himself in now. 

His doppelganger, or, as it turns out, Marcus Cutter, does not seem to share the same impediment and looks plenty intimidating, thank you very much. 

"Oh, I didn't do anything. Miranda, however..." he gives a charming smile, as if Doug and him are having a nice conversation instead of interacting over the evidences of the experiment the man has conducted on Doug. "See, she can do wonderful things with a body, but over time, even her work results in some... sacrifices." - he runs a finger up Doug's arm- "Did you notice, perhaps, that your nerves are rather dulled?" and Doug hasn't, not really, but he can see the finger digging into his skin, pulling it into a pale stretch of future blemish, and yet the pressure he is feeling is almost non-existent. "This is an unfortunate result of too many _regenerations_, as I like to call them."

The man smiles again, and the fact that - this time - it does seem to be meant as a real show of appreciation does nothing to make it less terrifying. 

"I have to say, I am very appreciative of this new technique she found. I rather missed... Sensations."

Cutter unbuckles one of Doug's hands and takes hold of his wrist. It's not a particularly tight grip, but all the same, Doug knows he couldn't escape it. He doesn't know how the man does it: he certainly never had that kind of strength when _he_ was inhabiting his body.

"I have to say, I rather like this body of yours, Doug" Cutter says, conversionaly, as if he's talking about a coat Doug has loaned him, rather than, you know, his _actual entire body_. "In particular, I have to admit to appreciating it's sensitivity."

"What-"

Doug's indignation dies in his throat before he can fully formulate it.

He's known he wasn't exactly straight for a long time. Known since he found himself daydreaming about one pair of legs too many to sink between. He's never been ashamed of it, per see, but it's not the kind of thing one can admit to anyone where he comes from. He never told his parents - of course - and Kate didn't know either. She would have been fine with it, he thinks, if he'd told her his shared enthousiasm with her male celebrity crushes wasn't as feigned as he pretented it to be. But deep down, he can't help but feel telling her would only have given her more reason to hate him in the end.

So, Doug has known he likes dick as much as vags for a long time now. That doesn't mean he's ever been anything that ressembles intimate with a guy before, and he never really considered the possibility outside of a few fever dreams.

Point is: Doug never touched a dick before. Apart from his own. And from a technical point of view, this is still true? Maybe?! But it _feels_ different. Even through the light pants the fake Doug is wearing, he can feel the warmth of the member, and when Cutter pushes down his trapped hand, his gentle moan makes Doug blush.

What the hell is he doing, blushing in the basement of a psycho that has not only conducted experiments on him, but, it seemed, is also intent on assaulting him?

And yet here he is, blushing like an idiot and running his fingers down the length of a cock that's no longer his.

"I'm happy to see you're as much of one for experiments as I am, my dear Doug."

Only then does Doug realize Cutter has stopped holding his hand down, and he snatches it, suddenly a bit ashamed.

"What the hell? What do you want?"

"As I said," Cutter swiftly climbs up on the bed, effectively straddling Doug. His erection is hot through the layers of clothing, "I'm quite enjoying these experiments. Would you be opposed to participating in the study?"

He looms over Doug, confronting him with his own face, pulled into a dangerous smile, self satisfied and hungry.  
Doug has never thought of himself as bad looking but this version of himself has a confidence that makes him look tantalizing, sexy in a dark, bad-boyish way. It's quite unfair that Cutter seems to manage to make Doug's body much more attractive that he ever has. 

"I don't--it's not-"

"I promise you'll like it." There's a hand running up his legs, and it feels big, bigger than Doug would have thought it to be. "I know this body like no other, after all."

"I-"

Before Doug can decide what he wants to say, he is cut off by a pair of lips hungrily taking his. They're rough, and demanding, and they make Doug moan when Cutter bites his lower lip.

Meanwhile, the man who stole Doug's body is roaming his new hands up and down unfamiliar-feeling legs and torso. Both his hands are now unbound and he experimentally grips the man's shoulder, not quite knowing if he wants to push him off or pull him closer. He probably should be terrified right now, and to be entirely truthful, he kind of is. But the feeling is exhilarating, arousing. Doug had always known he had a bit of a masochistic, submissive streak in bed, but much like his board attraction to all and every gender, this wasn't something he's ever really put words to. And while Kate didn't mind taking charge some of the time, and reducing him to a blubbering, teary mess, she still had some expectations of what their relationship should look like. She'd never been so forceful, so brutal and so sure he would just take whatever he was given.

Cutter definitely doesn't have that kind problem, if the way he seems intent on ravaging Doug - leaving him the only option of lying down and submitting to the assault on his lips, his skin, his torso and his thighs- is any indication.

Doug gasps for air when Cutter finally releases his lips, and whines when powerful hands pass through his hair, the sensation strange with much shorter, straighter strands than what he's used to.

The assault falters for an instant, and Doug lifts his eyes to see Cutter looking back at him with a considering smirk. It was like looking in a distorted mirror, the same face looking down at him than the one Doug has worn his whole life, but poised in a way he's never seen himself. Maybe that was what Cutter was contemplating as well. There probably hasn't been many occasions in which he's looked as helpless as Doug feels right this instant.  
Helpless, and drunk with the feeling.

Cutter runs a hand down Doug's chest, trailing down the opening of the shirt he's been mistreating this whole time. He takes his time, and the slow path of his short nails on Doug's skin leaves him entranced, almost hypnotized by the languid dance of the digits.

Cutter goes all the way down to Doug's zipper, pulling it down every teeth by agonizing teeth. Doug's breath catches in his throat and stays stuck there.

His pants are a much quicker work, and are quickly joined in the floor by his boxers. Doug doesn't have the time to look at the clothes he didn't pick out himself or check if those new legs have any more muscles that the ones he's been taken away from because there is now a hand fully coping his ass. It feels big, big enough to span his whole cheek, from the dip of his back to the crease between his ass and his thigh. Doug makes a sound he would call a moan if it wasn't so strangled. Cutter hums in response, looking for all the world like the cat who got the canary. Doug can recognize that sound, that expression on himself, that smug satisfaction: the knowledge that he'll be getting exactly what he wants. 

He's not so sure it's a good thing, being on the receiving end of that sound. 

He yelps when another finger touches him, cold and wet, and rests on his anus.

"Wait wait wait wait wait-" 

Does Doug have wet dreams of getting fucked by a taller, dominating man? Yes? Is he ready to just go at it right now with no warning?... 

Well- okay, he kinda wants to but- No! 

"Hey, slow down up there. Doesn't this require prep or something? Like, are you really just gonna shove your fingers in there and- " 

"This is prep, Doug." the man cuts in smoothly, with a smile and a soothing tone. "Don't worry. I wouldn't hurt you... Well- Not like this anyway."

And Cutter bends down to kiss him once again, which is very distracting but not quite enough for Doug to miss the finger still over his hole, massaging it intently. 

"Besides" continues Cutter before Doug has the time to find his breath "you may not be used to this, but I assure you, this body _is_."

"Wait-"

Cutter shoves his digit all the way up Doug's ass. All and any air Doug has ever managed to breath escape his lungs.

Having a finger up his ass is weird. And not only in the ways Doug was expecting, either. It feels a bit like he wants to poop, which he'd anticipated, but it also fires up some nerves along the way that start to make arousal pool on his groin. It doesn't feel as intrusive, or as painful as he feared it would: it seems Cutter was right when he said this body was used to the penetration. Every sensation seems a bit muted, a bit far away, and Doug can't really keep track of what parts of Cutter aren't already searching deep inside him. Was that normal? How desensitized was Cutter's body?

The second digit goes in just as smoothly as the first, the slight twinge at the extra stretch barely registering before it's gone again.

"How do you like it, Doug?" asks Cutter, his sweet tone at odds with the way his fingers are forcefully shoved into Doug's body, pushing on some part of him that sparks sudden, electrifying pleasure in Doug's groin. He jumps, and Cutter makes that same humming sound again. He wastes no time and grinds down on the cluster of nerves, and Doug's legs spasm, trash around uselessly in an effort to escape the relentless sensation. A big hand pushes against his pelvis, and h's kept firmly in place as Cutter keeps on abusing the sweet spot.

Doug can't help the breathy moans that are pulled out of him as the sensations spike and burn his inside, radiating to his groin where his cock is finally raising to full attention. Doug blames Cutter's fucked up nerves on the delay, because he's _never _taken so long to get hard.

Cutter himself doesn't seem to have any problem in that area, considering the heavy, hot weight pressing on Doug's left leg.

Doug can't help but think of this as a first time. It's stupid maybe, but he's starting to realize this will be his first time having sex with a guy. This realization brings about a specific kind of fearful anticipation. The kind that makes him open his legs just a tad wider while his breath stutters.

Then Cutter's hand leave his asshole and Doug closes his eyes because the simple sound of the man over him getting rid of his pants is too overwhelming to even think about watching it too.

Cutter whispers something he can't hear and then there's a hot hard pressure at his ass. It seems big, too big to breach Doug's body. But when Cutters dick does push into him, the pain he was expecting is only a passing uncomfortable feeling as his anus stretches almost easily. There is so little pain, in fact, that Doug barely has time to register the penetration before Cutter bottoms out, with a pleased sigh and a smirk.

It feels... Well it feels weird. But it also feels good, and when Cutter rams his cock straight into his protaste Doug can't help the broken moan that escapes out of his lips.

Cutter doesn't seem to be taking any precaution with Doug's body, his thrusts brutal and imprecise, but it somehow feels good anyway, the abuse muted by the damaged nerve system Doug has just inherited, and the sensation of being utterly dominated almost as exhilirating as the pure physical sensation of the erratic pounding on the electrifying bundle of nerves.

"I told you this body would take it good." Cutter's breath is hot on Doug's skin, and another whimper leaves him when sharp teeth close on his ear.

The sensations are overwhelming, an assault from all sides that feels like gunshots turned to caresses. Doug's body is burning up and he can feel himself getting close despite his late start. The heat is building up in his groin, and every time Cutter enters him in just the right way, he feels on the cusp of his orgasm, as if all he's missing is a small, tiny touch... 

Cutter bats his hand away with a smirk and rams back into his body, letting him muffle his own protest with a moan.

The man tuts at him, his dick never stopping its vicious rhythm in and out of Doug's body. 

"I'm not done with you yet."

Doug half-heartedly tries to resist his hands being pinned to the bed, but every time he struggles, Cutter's grip only seem to tighten, and Doug is only getting more desperate to come, the mounting pleasure becoming a torture as release seems to get further and further away from him.

Cutter's pace is quickening, his hips snapping faster and faster, and Doug only realizes he's started begging when the words draw a shudder from the man fucking him. Cutter grows even more forceful in his thrusts, if at all possible, and the brutal pace is echoed by Doug's chocked up moans. The pain and pleasure are starting to mix in his head and he's sure he'll explode any moment from the sheer pressure. He can hear himself babbling at this point, and he almost weeps in relief when Cutter's free hand finaly veers towards his dick.

Only to grip it tightly. 

"Wha- Please!" 

Cutter only drives into his body with a broken moan and stops there, his semen feeling like a hot, barely trickle in Doug's hole. 

"Come on, man" pleads Doug, trying to ignore the tremor in his own voice. "Just- please- just let me come."

Cutter chukles but doesn't release the grip of either his hands and Doug stays pinned like a oversized fly on a soft examination table. He bends down, his dick dragging up in Doug's body again with the movement--that just can't be comfortable. 

"I told you I wasn't done with you, didn't I?"

Doug groans and lets the man bite into his mouth, trying to relax in the hopes that Cutter will have pity on him when he's done playing.

Cutter retreats, giving a parting stroke to Doug's penis, smirking as his back arches off the bed with a choked gasp.

Then he lets go of Doug's hands as well and his focus immediately zeroes in on one thing. 

"Tut Tut, _Doug_" Cutter's tone is playful but steely and Doug freezes immediately "I didn't tell to move your hands, _did I_?" 

The finger stroking his face is soft but Doug can feel the unspoken threat in the nail lightly pressing onto his skin. 

"Don't you want to be a good boy for me, Doug?"

Doug prays that Cutter's blood vessels are as fucked up as the rest of his body because otherwise he's sure to be entirely too red for his destroyed dignity.

"Yeah, okay, sure."

"I'm sure you know there's a better way to talk to me, darling."

Doug's brain comes to a contemplative stop. Cutter responds to his gaping mouth by raising an eyebrow.

"Yes... Sir?" his throat is dryer than the desert and his voice feeble but Cutter smiles. 

"_Good_."

A shiver runs through Doug. He is certainly... discovering things about himself today.

Cutter's focus shifts entirely from Doug's hands then, as if he's perfectly certain his prey won't dare desobey him. And despite the painful urgency of Doug's dick - still throbing with the imperative need to come - there is no doubt in his mind that he will, in fact, comply with Cutter's demands.

He barely feels it as Cutter withdraws from his body but the apraising gaze the man covets him with burns his skin. Cutter looks at his sweaty, red, scared skin like he's some kind of prize, a trophy or a painting dedicated to his accomplishements. Doug should mind the possessive gaze but instead it feeds his desperation for just a bit more touch, just a bit more to tip him over the edge.

Cutter's gaze travels downwards and zeroes in on Doug's asshole once again. He can't really feel the semen that is surely dripping out of his body, but he doesn't miss the feeling of two fingers probing at the entrance again.

Doug squirms. He doesn't really know if he wants Cutter to come back to massaging his protaste or if he's trying to get away from the man entirely; to escape anymore torture when he can only endure it without reward. It doesn't really matter either way, because Cutter does neither, seemingly happy to simply tease Doug with fleeting touches while he admires his handy work with a smug smirk on his face.

"I have to say, Douglas, you look lovely like this."

"A bit egocentrical of you, don't you think? I mean it is your body."

"It is. But why should I deny myself the opportunity to appreciate a work of art just because it comes from my own hands?" his left hand idly travels back up Doug's torso, brushing against his stomach as he does so. Doug can feel his hair raising under the touch, a shiver all over his body, oversensitized to Cutter's touch. It is hard to remember the man above him was just using him as a sex toy and a surrogate meatsuit when he touches him like that.

Doug lets the man explore his body some more, dazed with unsatisfied want and not quite daring to speak and shatter Cutter's contemplative state. From time to time the man carelessly brushes Doug's cock again, laughing under his breath when it causes him to hiss and jerk away from the touch. The urgency of his orgasm is fading, but he is definitely still hard and extremely sensitive, and Cutter's teasing is painful.

Eventually Cutter stops his idle contemplation of Doug's body to touch his own cock, hard again. Doug thinks for sure he's going to get fucked again, but Cutter reaches backward instead to get more lube on his hand, and makes it disappear behind himself, out of Doug's view and away from his skin. 

"What- what are you doing?" the words tumble out of Doug's mouth before he can think of stopping them.

Maybe Cutter is feeling generous, or maybe he's too distracted by the two fingers he's now jammed up his ass; in any case, he only smiles down at him. 

"I appreciate your body, Douglas, and I intend to enjoy it, in every way I can." 

Doug can only watch as Cutter fucks himself on his own fingers, arching his back and releasing shuddery breaths when he reaches the sensitive bundle of nerves Doug himself has never quite dared to seek out. 

Much too soon, it seems, Cutter finishes with his preparation and the same fingers that have been loosening his hole are curled around Doug's cock, making it slick and tearing a groan out of his mouth.

"Are you close, Doug? You're not going to fail me now are you?"

"I don't- I'm not-" 

"Are you gonna be able to restrain yourself, or do you want a bit of help?"

Doug tries to stay calm and collected, to ignore the heat building once again in his dick. 

"I'll be fine." he manages to bit out, and Cutter smiles. 

"That's good. I'm sure you don't want to know what will happen if you disappoint me."

And without anymore ceremony, Cutter sinks on his cock.

Doug's first thought is that Cutter might murder him if he comes just from that. He is tight and burning like a furnace around Doug, and a drawn-out moan escapes his lips. Even Cutter atop of him looks a bit shell-shocked by the sudden sensations. It doesn't stop him from rolling his hips down, making them both shudder.

"Ah, this really is your first time, isn't it?" 

Doug barely manages to gather himself enough to nod before Cutter slams himself back down on his lap, drawing a moan from both of their throat.

Doug has figured Cutter had been fucking him quite roughly, but, if anything, the man seems even more hurried and violent when fucking himself on Doug's cock. It takes all of his restraint not to let himself drown in the sensation of the tight grip of Cutter's ass around his dick - in the sweet sounds Cutter is fucking out of himself - and come despite his captor's threat hanging over his head.

But the sweet torture is too much for Doug to just lay down and take it, and he can't quite help bucking his hips up to try and bury himself deeper in the burning heat of Cutter's body. He tries to curb it as much as he can, afraid of Cutter's promised retaliation, but then the mouvement connects to one of the man's thrust downward, and Cutter lets out an actual, broken moan, a sound more fragile and more human than any Doug has heard him make since he's awoken. This reaction nearly has Doug coming right there and then, and it only encourages him to repeat the motion, again and again, driving up into an increasingly more feverish Cutter, whose eyes drift slowly shut as he speeds up, his mouth moving wordlessly while he fucks himself harder on Doug's cock.

The whole display makes Doug bold, and he finally dare to use his hands, to bring one palm to Cutter's bobbing cock. He strokes him once and Cutter starts trembling, bending over Doug's torso with a trembling moan. His already tight channel shivers and spams around Doug's cock and no interdiction would be enough to stop his orgasm from rushing through him. 

Cutter doesn't seem to mind too much. He must feel Doug coming in him because he moans brokenly, and a few strokes later, Doug's hand is covered in his come as well. 

Cutter doesn't collapse on top of him, but Doug gathers it's a close call, and the man takes a full minute locked in position, still sitting on Doug's softening dick, eyes closed and breathing slowly coming down from raged to calm and mesured.

When he opens his eyes, they have regained their steely determination, and Doug already misses the fragile want he's briefly seen in the man.

"Ah...." he sighs, as if he's sipped a good cup of coffee rather than just fucked the brains out of Doug. "I'd missed this."

He brings a hand to caress Doug's face and smile, smug and scary. 

"I have to admit you exceeded my expectations, Doug. Maybe we can work something out after all."

The phrase is bizarre enough that it sends alarm signals in Doug's brain through the post-coital fog it is cluttered with. 

"What?" 

"Oh, Doug... Did you really think I would let you go just like that? I can't have you running around with my face, can I?" 

Doug's brain misfires and instead of replying he considers the fact that this would be weird enough if he _didn't_ have his dick up the guy's ass. 

Maybe Cutter thinks so as well because he chooses this moment to smoothly get up and remove himself from Doug's dick. Doug sees him shiver slightly at the probably uncomfortable feeling but then Cutter smiles. Doug is starting to think the man is a straight up masochist as well as a sadist.

"I was actually thinking of getting rid of you," Cutter says idly as he uses Doug's discarded boxer to clean the come that has trickled down his leg. Only then does Doug think to try and get up and away from this madman, but of course Cutter tied him back to the bed while he wasn't paying attention. "You _did_ convince me to reconsider my options..." Cutter is still dressing himself as he speaks. "We'll have to find a way to silence you on the subject of this little experiment, but that can be arranged..." 

Doug watches as Cutter hums and nods to himself as he buttons his shirt up and puts on a cravate. He looks much more put together than Doug ever has and Doug himself is paralysed by a mix of fear, bewilderment and resignation. He's always known his life wasn't worth much, hasn't he? Going this way is much crazier that he would have anticipated, but it's not that much of a surprise that Doug Eiffel dies in a basement, all things considered.

Meanwhile, Cutter is now fully dressed and seems to have reached a conclusion. He presses down on a button on the right wall panel. 

"Miranda? Send instructions to change the planned weight of our ship. Mister Eiffel will be joining us on our trip."

Then he turns towards Doug, smile wide and full of teeth still imprinted on Doug's skin. 

"So, _officer Doug Eiffel_. How do you feel about space?"

**Author's Note:**

> If I have Cutter in one of my fic and he isn't scary sexy and trying to get dick, assume I'm sick.
> 
> Headcannon note: I think that we the many times Cutter's body got "reconfigured", as one could say, he's had to have nerve damage. Normally this would mean chronic pain, but I'd assume Miranda found a way to make him more resilient so she might have removed or modified some of those nerves. Results in Cutter feeling little physical signals.
> 
> There is the whole list of my kinktober in the series' description. If you want to assign a kink to a specific pairing, feel free to ask in the comment (I'll do my best)


End file.
